Shannon came in the back door, breathing heavily, her face shiny with perspiration. Boone turned from the counter, retrieved the towel he'd draped over the back of one of kitchen chairs while she was out running, and handed it to her. She took it with a quick smile of thanks and mopped her face with it. Reaching behind herself she pulled a thin plastic box out of the waistband of her shorts and handed it to him.
He took the DVD case gingerly, holding the corner between his thumb and forefinger, the side that had been against her back was slick with her sweat. He was about to reach for a corner of her towel, then thought better of it as she shot him a look of warning, and wiped it on his pant leg instead He looked at the title in confusion. "I'm supposed to know what this is, and don't bother saying 'It's a DVD you idiot.' Wait…where the hell did you get this, where've you been?"
She tried to answer, but, still out of breath, gave up. 'Garage sale,' she checked the water bottle at her waist, and, finding it empty, pulled open the fridge for a fresh one.
"Huh," He frowned at her; sure he'd gotten it wrong, "garage sale? Shannon Rutherford went to a garage sale?" He was incredulous. "Hold on, did I miss the news flash, did hell freeze over?"
'Piss off.' She was well on the way to draining the bottle.
"Nice come back, you're losing your touch." He answered.
'So sue me, I'm tired and thirsty.' She finished the water and put the bottle on the counter.
"Okay, tired of sounding like I'm talking to myself here, like some lunatic, do you think you could actually speak to me?"
She looked over his shoulder as if someone was standing there, reaching out to pat his arm with one hand, while holding the other beside her head and circling her finger beside her ear, she said "Day pass only, I'm taking him back to the home at four."
"Not funny, Shan." Her joke hit a little too close to home for his liking, he glared at her.
"Christ Boone! Get over yourself." She pulled out a chair and sat at the table.
He joined her. Looking again at the plastic box in his hand, he asked. "So what's the deal with this?"
"I wanted a break so I stopped. I don't know what made me go through the vid's they had on sale." She shrugged. "I saw that one, and it was only two dollars, so I picked it up. It's a TV show I remember watching years ago. I think I was fifteen, maybe sixteen."
Boone looked a little doubtfully at the cover; it looked pretty juvenile to him. Shannon held out her hand and demanded: "Give."
"Please," he said automatically. When she rolled her eyes, he slid it across the table to her, shaking his head. "I remember there's a guy in it I thought looked just like you." She looked at the front of the box. "Here's his picture, what do you think?" She looked up to hand it back to him, but he'd already gotten up and turned back to the counter.
"What're you making?" she put the box back down.
"Your lunch, but I'm thinking I didn't add enough arsenic." Boone was still a little pissed at her.
"Arsenic, huh? Is that because I wouldn't eat the poisonous mushrooms?" She mused.
"And here I thought I'd hidden them so well in the pasta primavera. I guess the pink spots gave them away." He answered in a serious tone.
"No, it was when I gave one to the cat and it keeled over dead." Shannon nodded her head as if recalling a real memory.
"We don't have a cat." He pointed out.
"Not anymore." She laughed.
He slid a plate of Salad Nicoise in front of her, a freshly grilled tuna steak in the centre. "That's just what I wanted!" She exclaimed in appreciation. "What did you do read…?" she stopped when she realized the stupidity of what she was about to say.
"Your mind? Yeah," Boone flicked his index finger against her skull, "what there is of it in there."
Shannon watched while he dumped a loaf of homemade bread out of a pan onto a cutting board. He sawed off both ends, and, knowing the crust was her favourite, handed them to her, then turned back to the board and cut two more pieces for himself. She bit into the crunchy goodness, smiling. He moved to stand behind her and pulled her ponytail half way through one of the loops of elastic, lifting it away so the air could circulate against her slightly sweaty skin. He bent down and blew cool air across the back of her neck causing her to shiver, "Again." She demanded.
"Of course, princess," he blew again, before getting her another bottle of water from the fridge, and one for himself. He put his plate on the table in front of the chair he'd vacated, added the two slices of bread and sat down again.
"Where's Andrew?" she questioned.
"Kevin's," he provided. "But I told him to be back well before dinner. I want him to be well rested for tomorrow, what with it being the first day of school. He ate while you were out, but I wanted to wait for you. Though given your pathetic attempt at humour earlier, I'm beginning to wonder why."
They ate in companiable silence. "You aren't actually planning on making me watch that with you are you?" Boone indicated the box.
"No, I'm not going to make you. You're going to do it because you love me." She said it with a smug air of complete confidence.
"Not enough arsenic, definitely not enough arsenic." He muttered, rising to clear the plates.
The late afternoon found them in the den, the TV on, the DVD loading. Boone had made her a bowl of popcorn, which she'd placed on the cushion beside her. It was on the side away from him, he noticed in irritation. The show started with an overview of a small town, and a voice over giving a monologue. Boone tried to pay attention, but he kept zoning out. God this sucks, he thought. Andrew came in just after it started.
"What are you guys watching?" he asked.
"Some self indulgent crap from your mothers' childhood," Boone responded, getting an elbow in the ribs in retaliation.
"Okay." The boy sat. "Does stuff blow up?"
"No." Shannon answered.
"Do people kiss?" he asked with a grimace.
"Yeah," she smiled.
"I'll give it five minutes." He allowed, shrugging.
Part way into the show, Boone started laughing. "Did he just say his name was Scout? What the hell? Does he have a brother, Rover and a sister, Spot?"
"Shut up." She elbowed him again; he poked her back. They started arguing, not paying any attention to what was happening on the screen, until Andrew shushed them.
"Okay, here's a part with the guy I thought looked like you." She nodded her head at the TV.
He watched with a skeptical look on his face as two of the characters acted out a scene on a rooftop. "No way, Jesus, I don't look like that…what were you thinking? Is he actually peeing on the roof? And what's wrong with his hair, is it greasy or just wet?"
"It looks different in most of the rest of episode, pay attention, he'll be on again." She defended herself.
A little later he burst out again. "Ham? His name is Ham? Does his sister Bacon go out with the Scout guys' brother Rover?"
"I don't think so Boone. And by the way, Boone isn't that a little like the pot calling the kettle black? Or is Boone a name you'd normally find at the top of a new mothers' list of baby names?" Shannon asked sarcastically.
"I've always really liked my name." he answered defensively, "I think it's kind of soap opera-ish, Boone Andrew Carlyle, wedding planner to the stars." He struck a bit of a pose in jest.
Shannon and Andrew looked at him like an alien spaceship had landed in the back yard disgorging him; they exchanged glances with each other. 'He's crazy,' Andrew thought at her.
'Certifiable,' she agreed, careful not to let Boone know, given his reaction to her joke earlier.
"Actually I'm just glad my mothers' maiden name wasn't Smith or Jones or, god forbid, Sawyer." Boone was mercifully unaware of their silent assessment.
He sat through the rest of the first, and most of the second, episode. Finally he'd had more than enough. Fuck this shit, he thought to himself, rising from the couch. "Enjoy your blast from the past."
Halfway down the hall he realized he had the DVD box in his hand, and turned to go back to the den. He looked through the open door. Andrew had moved to occupy the spot he'd vacated on the couch. Shannon had moved the bowl of popcorn so that it was on the cushions between them; they were both laughing and pointing at something on the screen. Andrew made a comment, when she turned to him to answer, she saw, over Andrews' head, that Boone was watching them. She gave him a quick spontaneous smile and turned back to the TV.
Boone looked down at the box he was holding, studying the pictures of the actors. Yeah, he had to admit, that one guy did bear more than just a passing resemblance. The tag line for the show was emblazoned on the cover, under the title: Young Americans. It read, "Everyone has a summer they'll never forget…" While that summer of six years ago, when she'd left him and he'd disintegrated, would never, ever be something he'd be able to completely leave behind, the past summer was slowly overlaying it, blurring the edges, taking the harshness out of the darkness of the abyss into which he'd plunged after her departure.
He felt better than he had in years, wondering if he'd even recognize the man he'd been before she'd reappeared a little over two and a half months ago. He'd been so beaten, just existing, not really living at all. He knew he still had a long way to go, there were still times when he felt the depression trying to reclaim him, but those incidents were already becoming less and less frequent. He reminded himself that he also needed to stand up to her more. He'd always done for her, fetching and carrying, but now he found himself often letting her walk all over him as well. He had to stop doing that, she wasn't going anywhere, not this time, so he didn't have to be so afraid of her walking out the door forever, that he let her treat him like a doormat. He'd been feisty and snarky in his day, he remembered, he had to get some of that attitude back.
He thought back to what Claire had said to him in private, when they'd dropped Andrew off for his weeks' stay. She'd told him that she saw nothing but happiness in his future, and that Shannon would be there for him, always. When she'd asked if he believed her, he'd answered in the affirmative, wanting to desperately. But he'd really meant it in that "I believe that you believe," kind of way, which, deep down, boiled down to the fact that he really didn't believe her at all. He suddenly realized that he'd come to accept it as the truth all on his own.
He looked down the hall again at his family. Growing up he'd always assumed he end up married with a few kids, but these two certainly weren't who he'd pictured living the rest of his life with. A nine-year-old boy with ESP and the mind of a thirty year old, and his own sister, someone who, no matter how much he'd wished differently, he'd always assumed would be forever unattainable. He loved them both desperately.
He put the box on the hall table and headed to the kitchen to start dinner.